Red Wine and Sand: A Love Story
by Lea of Mirkwood
Summary: [Young Guns]- The unorthodox love and lust of Jane Greathouse, the prostitute, and Billy the Kid, the outlaw, and the story of their passionate affair.


****

Red Wine and Sand

Lea of Mirkwood

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Explanation: Jane Greathouse is the whore in Young Guns II who smuggled the gun into the outhouse for Billy. I thought she was an interesting character, and she and Billy seemed to have a history, and she seemed to know Doc, Chavez and Garrett. I thought she might be an interesting character to write about. In addition, the look on Billy's face when she ran up and hugged him was intriguing. I don't think Billy the Kid would hug just anyone so hard their feet lifted off the floor.

Author's Note: I'm doing this mostly from Janie's point of view, but some chapters will alternate to third person because some of the moments don't really work for first person. This will also be my first attempt at heavily implied sex. Think back to the bits of Young Guns II that they don't show you on TV...

When most people remember my friend Billy the Kid, alias William H. Bonney, they remember his stint among the Regulators, or his last blaze of glory at Fort Sumner, where he reunited with former Regulators José Chavez y Chavez and Josiah "Doc" Scurlock. No one really thinks about when he was in between. When he rode solo.

Well, almost solo.

--- --- ---

I grew up in a tiny town called Canton. It was the type of town with a general store, jail, church, saloon, whorehouse, homes and little else. Not exactly the city life in any way. I had an older brother named Jim and a sister named Mary. Life seemed perfect- until Mary died of cholera and Jim ran off with the town whore and our father's money. After that Canton wasn't so perfect. My father started drinking. Heavy. He drank himself right into a drunken gunfight with a man from out of town. He got shot, right in the chest. When they laid out all his possessions for counting, I took his six-shooter right out from under the lawyer's nose and laid it under my unmentionables in my drawer. About that time I met Cole Thompson. Cole was tall, handsome, dark-haired and five years older than me. I was about nineteen at the time, and impressionable, and Cole was some hell of a tough, jaded gunslinger. In short, I was in love. He convinced me I should run away with him, and like a fool, I packed up my bags and ran off with Cole. It felt so romantic to be whisking off across the plains on the back of a horse, with my arms wrapped around a man's waist. He loved me, or so I thought. He told me I was beautiful. I believed him on both counts. When we got to Lincoln, my eyes filled with stars. Lincoln was a City. Not a little podunk city, but a City. At least as far as my perceptions said, it was a city. Cole and I lived in a little room above a saloon for about a week, until he decided that wasn't good enough. I thought it was. I could talk to the people nearby and I got new fancy dresses, and I learned to dance. But it wasn't enough for Cole. He decided to pull off a bank heist. I tried to talk him out of it, but he hit me across the face and I went along with it. Bastard. He almost got away with it, too! But just as he was making a leap for the horse, some deputy got a good shot off and he got it, right in the middle of his chest. He died at my feet. At the time, I was heartbroken. I felt that there would never be another man for me to love as I loved Cole. However, now that I think of all my emotions then, all Cole had done was give me a pretty dress, a bruise and a broken heart, then he left me with no prospects because I was now "damaged goods." I was a loose woman.

The sheriff let me off because I spent two hours sobbing on his desk. I think he was more worried about the finish on the fancy mahogany than he was about my broken heart. Broken, shattered, wounded. So I left Lincoln. I took Cole's things and sold them for as much money as I could, then I hopped a few cargo trains until I found the town of Latham. It was a small town, not unlike Canton. However, unlike Canton, I did not know anyone there. So the first thing I did was go to the saloon.

A man there told me the only work I might find was in the house next door. I went, dressed in my finest dress, which was red velvet. It was a brothel. They did take me in, and I discovered I liked that life. I got paid for doing something fun! What a scam! Most of the men who came were pretty rich, and no one knocked us around or anything. They just came – wham, bam, thank you ma'am – and left, leaving us a couple greenbacks on the table. I liked it. I really liked it. And I got pretty good, if I do say so myself. So there I was, and here I am now. I like my life and I like the men who come.

--- --- --- 

The next man left the room, giving me a quick quirk of the eyebrow before shutting the door. I sighed and sat up again, reaching for my underthings.

"Rosanna?" I called. "Rosanna, you done yet?"

My friend Rosanna opened the door and leaned in. "Janie, where the hell you've been, I been done for an hour."

"Well, I ain't been," I shot back. "Git in here and help me with this corset."

Rosanna sighed and walked around behind me. I felt her deft fingers at my back as she neatly laced up the strings of my cheap but sturdily boned corset. I held the straps of my camisole tight as she yanked on the laces to slim my waist.

"See you, Jane," said Rosanna, grunting with effort as she made my waist as tiny as she could. "Have all these lush curves an' all. It's a bit harder to make you small about the waist."

"Ha!" I gasped, clutching my aching sides. "Bring one in quick, so he can rip this thing off."

"Don't you dare, Jane. You have to wander around a bit more before you make me come back in here and get this thing off."

Finally Rosanna tied off the ends and stepped back. I turned to face her. "I envy you, Rosanna," I said, looking at her slim waist and straight blond hair. "You barely have to tighten your corset, you've got that hair, and you're just...ah, hell."

Rosanna looked at me incredulously. "Jane, you don't look at yourself much, do ya? You pretty. You got that long red hair, pretty pink cheeks. Not a single mark on your pretty pale body, honey. None of the boys you get are fed up with the way you do things. Not a single bruise on your lily white skin!"

Rosanna exhaled sharply and turned away with a grimace. I caught her shoulder and spun her back around.

"Who was it, Rosie?" I asked. "Who was it?"

Rosanna shook her head and covered her face with her hands. "It's not anyone, Janie. It's everything and everyone."

I took her thin face in my hands and searched her eyes. They were filled with pain. "Rosanna, you can't give up. Think of it, this is the life. We get paid to have fun. You get paid a lot of money."

"It's not worth it, Janie. How can you think it's worth it? It's not worth anything..."

Rosanna covered her face again and began to cry. I gently wrapped my round arms around her bony shoulders and let her cry on my shoulder. It wasn't always easy. But I liked my life, and Rosanna did not. She was the nearest thing I had to a sister, since my other one died.

--- --- ---

I was a pretty good seamstress back then, and most of the clothes me and the other girls wore were either made or repaired by me. I was working then on a nice blue dress for myself. I was working on that dress the first time I ever met a Regulator. His name was Dick Brewer, and he went with Rosanna. He seemed like a nice one, at least. Though a little uptight. He had a stern face and dark hair and eyes. He tipped his hat to me as he passed. When he left the next day, his neat hair was a little mussed up, but he kissed Rosanna on the hand before whisking out the door like some fine gentleman. Little did I know many of the Regulators would feature prominently in my life over the next four years.

--- --- ---

Feedback is much appreciated. Argh, I knew it was trouble for me to start yet another fic...now...spring break fic fever. Unfortunately, it's not striking for my Faculty fic. ARGH!


End file.
